


Epilogue

by CodenameAntarctica



Series: Beyond the shallow ground [4]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28091124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodenameAntarctica/pseuds/CodenameAntarctica
Summary: This is the epilogue to the "Beyond the shallow ground"-series, to serve some Happy Endings after the violence and angst. Also, I might have promised some "healing sex" and fluff to some readers, so here I try.Life goes on in Tokyo and Hong Kong...
Relationships: Asami Ryuichi/Takaba Akihito, Mikhail Arbatov/Liu Fei Long
Series: Beyond the shallow ground [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033884
Comments: 45
Kudos: 84





	1. Fei Long

There was a small, black ball. It just lay there in the darkness of the world and though there was little light around, its obsidian surface shimmered and glowed. It would have been rather beautiful, if it wasn’t the most frightening thing in the whole universe. Whenever he stumbled upon it, he wanted to run, but he couldn’t, because then the world had become small and there was nothing in there except for that tiny thing and himself. And the ball seemed to just wait for him like it had a consciousness. It waited for him to accept that there was nowhere to flee and no one to come save him.

And once he did, the obsidian black would split open and burst into the bright light that turned life into death and memory into oblivion.

He gasped for breath, shooting upwards and falling back onto a soft, brighter world. His eyes needed a while to realize what they had to do; his mind had to wring itself around the idea that he must have been asleep before.

When shapes became clearer and contrast had rearranged itself, he looked around. He was at home, in his own bedroom, in his own bed.

Had he had a nightmare, he wondered? A very long one, probably?

Feeling came back slowly and so did some pain. It took him quite an effort to even just push himself halfway up onto the pillow. There was some soft, foam collar around his neck, which allowed him to turn his head sideways very faintly, but not up or down or tilt it to a side. His left arm and hand were caught in a brace that was strapped to his chest very tightly. He could not move it the tiniest bit from the shoulder downwards. Pushing the bedsheet away he found another brace around his right knee and was sure from feeling alone that both his feet had been clutches into something like that as well.

With his right hand he searched his face and found some bandages around his forehead. Above the left temple there was some hurt underneath that spread out when he touched it. A sting seared through his skull and his whole face. He gritted his teeth, but that only made it worse.

It took a moment for the pain to mostly subside, then he searched for more injury, but there didn’t seem to be any. His head however felt strange. Like there was some water in it or some wool that made it heavy and slow, and in his ears there was a very faint, high pitch sound.

He tried to speak, but his voice shattered in his throat into a million little splinters, which he choked and coughed on until he almost lost consciousness. The world turned dark again with many light, colored blotches swimming about, but very slowly, when he tried to calm his own breath down and concentrated on the white noise that now even drowned out the tune in his ears, it turned back to reality.

“Tao?”, he finally managed to croak. And did it again moments later, not sure if he had been loud enough for anybody to have heard him just a step away.

But then the door to his room was pushed open and the boy came running.

“Fei Long!”, he chimed, skidding to a halt just short of the bed. “You’re awake! How are you?”

There was so much joy and relieve on the face of the child, his eyes seemed to sparkle with it.

“I… I don’t know”, he could only answer. He wasn’t sure, _how_ he was.

Tao understood. He sat down on the side of the bed gently, helping Fei Long as good as he could to sit up into a more comfortable position.

“You will be alright. The doctors say that you will be _aaaalright_. You just need to take a rest. You had a concussion, and have some broken rips, and your left arm is broken and some fingers, and there was some fracture in your knee and both ankles. And you had a slight pnu… pneuno.. pneumonia.”

That sounded like rather a long list, but the way Tao just jabbered it out it sounded hardly as bad. “What happened to me?”

“Don’t you remember? Uh… the doctors said that you probably wouldn’t. There was some attack on that hotel where you went, and you fell down into some lake or something?”

He turned his head the little bit he could, staring into the distance of his darkened room. There were only some lanterns lit and it was quite dim in there.

They – Asami, Mikhail and him – had met on Hainan Island to see Viktor Elisov. They had gone to his hotel, to talk to him, but then there had been gunshots. Elisov had drawn a gun on him and had sent Asami and Mikhail to get rid of whatever was happening. He remembered being alone with Elisov and his bodyguard for a while. He remembered talking to the Russian, but after _that_ …?

There was nothing.

“Do you really not remember?”

He looked back at the boy’s huge eyes which now seemed glad and worried at the same time.

“No, I don’t. Maybe that’s better? Maybe it will come back to me”, he answered and tried to smile a bit. It took most of the concern from the child’s face.

“Um… Tao”, he then started, but paused for a moment. He needed to ask something – needed to know something. “Where is…”, he stopped again, then chose the name of another he was worried about: “…where is Yoh?”

Tao now smiled broadly. “At home, I think. It is 8.30 in the morning. He was here every day to visit you.”

“And…”, again that _other_ name was on his lips, yet he did not manage to speak it. But why? Was he scared of the possible answer? Or of the boy’s reaction? Or of his own, when asking about him first? “And… what about Asami and Akihito?”

“They’re fine. They left for Japan about a week ago.”

“A week ago?”, Fei Long gasped. “How long have I been out?”

On that Tao shrugged but still smiled. “Nearly ten days. They kept you sleeping so you would be able to heal better and would not have any pain.”

“I see”, was his reply. He let is eyes wander around the room for a short moment, but he could not stop himself from wanting to know… _no matter_ the answer. He _needed_ to _know_!

“What about Mikhail Arbatov?”

There Tao’s smile flickered for a second, but then it was back on. “Ah… he left for Macau… some while back. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Oh”, Fei long answered. It was little more than a sigh. Tao asked him something after that, about wanting something to drink or anything, but the man just shook his head as good as he could – which wasn’t much.

“Uh, Tao?”, he finally spoke again, and the boy snapped to attention so hard, the mattress trembled underneath him.

“Yes?”

“Can you get me my phone?”

“Of course!”, the kid exclaimed and dashed from the room like a bolt of lightning.

Alone once more, Fei Long searched with the fingers of his right hand for his heart. There was no injury there, no sign of a scar or of a bandage. Did that mean, that all was well? That Mikhail had just left, because he might have needed to? That he would come back?

Or was he gone, because he had lost interest after all? Because anything that might have happened in those hours Fei Long did not remember, and in those days after that? Had anything changed his mind?

The boy was back before the man even noticed and handed him the phone.

“I will tell master Zhuo that you are awake and will call Yoh!”, Tao declared, then was gone again, leaving the door to the room open.

Fei Long stared after him for a moment, but then turned towards his phone. It had been kept on and charged though no one would have been able to use it. It was guarded by a 6-digit pin and not by face- or fingertip recognition.

Even before he had put the numbers in, he was aware that there had not been any calls or messages. This was his private phone after all, so only a few people had that number. Mikhail did, and Akihito and Asami, Tao and Yoh… Very few others.

He checked all the apps and lists nonetheless in hope that he might have missed something. But he hadn’t.

Then he opened the information on the last number he had called himself – it was Mikhail’s. His finger hovered over the call-button for minutes, while he tried so hard to remember, that his head started to hurt, and the world seemed to turn darker again. He stopped finally, understanding that _now_ there would be no memory returning. So, if he wanted to find out, why Mikhail had gone home and had left him, he needed to call the man and ask him.

He pressed the call-button, listened as the number was dialed, as the ringing advertised that the line wasn’t occupied, or the phone switched off.

Suddenly there was a tune playing somewhere, but not in the small device. It almost slipped from his fingers when he turned towards the door, his neck aching a little bit as he did so. There was some music playing just outside in the hallway.

And then Mikhail stepped inside smiling.

“Oh, you bastard!”, Fei Long groaned. He had almost thrown his phone at the man.

“It was the kid's doing, not mine”, Mikhail excused himself shrugging. He came to the bed and sat on the edge of it, close to the Chinese.

“I wish you had gone back to Macau, so I could tell you to stay there!”, Fei Long hissed at him, when the Russian’s arms embraced him very tenderly, but playing at being angry made his head hurt and the world spin. He tried to keep sitting upright but couldn’t fight the daze that spread through his mind. Mikhail caught him, when he sunk against him.

“You need to sleep, Fei Long”, the blonde man said. “You need to re-“

He did not get any further, because Fei Long had grabbed his collar and had pulled him close, to put his mouth upon the other’s.

For a second Mikhail froze in surprised, then he smiled and sighed against the lips touching his own. He answered the kiss gently, until Fei Long’s head became too heavy. He sank against the Russian even more and was held safely just as before.

“You need to rest, Fei Long”, he heard the other speak, and only felt as he was laid down on the bed again. Mikhail kissed his cheek and forehead, making sure not to get too close to his temple. But when he tried to get up, Fei Long caught his collar again.

“Don’t go. Don’t leave me”, he whispered, while his voice already trailed away into sleep.

“I won’t”, Mikhail answered. “I’ll be here. I’ll stay with you.”


	2. Asami

The day they returned to Tokyo, they had moved into a penthouse in Chiyoda-ku, with a view onto the gardens of the royal palace less than half a mile down the street and the Tokyo Sky Tree in the distance behind. It was one of the most prestigious real estates in the whole of the inner city and Asami had had to pull a few strings and to call in some favors.

 _That_ had been seven days ago, but the place still looked very much like on the pictures of the brokers. It had been fully furnished including a king size bed, huge, open kitchen, dining table and sofas, a large tv not only in the living room but also in all three of the bedrooms. Decorations had been included as well, with giant rugs and heavy curtains and expensive lamps - all décor kept in a blueish-grey color range. But what it still mostly lacked was anything personal.

All their belongings from the apartment they had fled from because of Chernobog had mostly been lost. Only a few items Asami had managed to retrieve from the evidence room of the Tokyo Police by way of yet another acquaintance that owed him a favor. But all of that made only up for tiny spots in the vast space.

While Asami had his very own suppliers for anything he required and had made orders from his phone right away to fill the walk-in-closets with clothes, the fridge with food, the storages with wine and Bourbon, Akihito had gotten himself into a frenzy of writing down lists of everything he believed he would need and then realizing how much it all would cost. Asami had simply told him to just buy it anyway.

So, when he came home this evening, shortly after 10pm, he was greeted by the concierge down in the building’s lobby, who had accepted another heap of parcels from different companies. The man needed a hand truck to bring them all up onto the top floor.

Asami just put them into one of the smaller bedrooms, which Akihito seemed to imagine as his future home-office. The first items in _there_ yet, besides the large desk, high-tec office-chair and iMac, was an assortment of Nikon cameras and lenses worth a fortune, which the kid had drooled over for two evenings, before Asami had just bought them. _They_ – as he had been told – were every photographer’s wet dream, and he felt like he had been compensated for the expense greatly.

But then again, he had been for all of it! Akihito still couldn’t believe that he now lived in such a place. Every morning he would walk through the rooms, open each closet, gaze through all the windows. And he had been rather delighted to get to know all the furniture in a pretty… unique way. Asami had in fact even pushed him up against the shiny surface of the fridge, when he had fucked him in the kitchen.

The reward for the contents of all the new packages now would however have to wait, for today Akihito was out. Asami checked all the rooms nonetheless, although he knew that he would have received a message, if plans had changed.

They _obviously_ hadn’t, and Akihito was nowhere to be found. He was meeting some friends, trying to get back into a life he had had to leave behind some months ago.

Maybe it was for the better. Recent days had been very long, with Asami rebuilding his businesses which had stalled because of Chernobog, and nights had been short as they had spent hours entangled with each other. Sleep had been pretty rare.

Stepping out onto one of the balconies, Asami lit a cigarette and leaned onto the railing. The street below was the only drawback of living in the inner city, because it was quite noisy at any time. Yet once the windows were closed one heard nearly nothing of it.

His phone started to ring, when he had just finished the smoke. From the tune alone he knew that it wasn’t Akihito, but the list of other possible callers wasn’t long. He had set the device to _‘private’_ – he did that, whenever he took a break of his businesses, for it allowed only a few, pre-selected numbers to contact him. Everyone else would just be rerouted to the mailbox.

When he took the phone out, he however was surprised by the name in the display. It made him hesitate a second, then he accepted the call, lifting the device to his ear. But he did not speak, he just listened.

There was a silence.

Then a voice he would always recognize greeted him: “Good evening.”

“So, you’re awake”, he stated the obvious.

“Since this morning”, Fei Long answered.

“How are you?”

“Still a bit shaky and tired. The doctors keep telling me what I am not supposed to do, and to rest and sleep.”

The Chinese spoke just like he always had, in that one way which was unique to him: quietly and slowly, and hardly anything in the world could make him raise his voice or hurry him to speed up. Men had to fall silent to hear his words and to wait until he decided to finish.

“Huh!”, Asami made. “You should listen to them.”

“You’re the wrong person to tell me that. You didn’t listen to them yourself.”

Silence fell again for some seconds, in which Asami looked up to the blinking lights of some aircraft which hung like a string of pearls in the sky to the south, making their approach to Haneda Airport.

“Asami…”, Fei Long finally continued, “I am sorry it all turned out this way.”

The Japanese made another _‘huh’_ in his throat. It sounded like a dry laugh.

“Well, but I guess your plan would have worked, if it had been only Elisov’s calling. He wanted to play along. It was Chernobog who pissed on our parade.”

There was an almost inaudible chuckle, then a pause again.

Asami listened to the noise of the city, gazing out into the distance where all the lights became one giant glimmering sea. Usually, a call like this would have seemed to him like a waste of time. Whoever contacted him had better known what to say and say it quickly. This however was different. It didn’t even feel awkward.

“Thank you for saving me”, Fei Long finally spoke again and the quiet, deep sound of his voice and meaning of his words ran a chill down Asami’s spine.

He nodded into the darkness on the balcony and felt a little smile form on his lips.

“Thanks for not dying in my arms. Akihito would have killed me.”

“How is he?”, Fei Long changed the subject. He seemed to be glad for the opportunity.

“He is well. He’s out with some friends tonight.”

“That sounds good. Did you give him back his own phone?”

Indeed, he had. When he had hidden Akihito away on some beautiful tropical island just off the shore of Okinawa to give him time to heal from his injuries and to keep him save from any harm, he had practically confiscated his phone. As a replacement he had handed him a different device, which could only call a couple of numbers and had no access to the internet or any other way of communication. Akihito had raged about that, but Asami had not given in. At the temple where he had hidden the kid before, danger had found a way to get to him anyway. This would not happen a second time.

But when they had returned to Tokyo, Asami had given the phone back.

“I did.” He already knew what the next question would be.

“Is it fine with you if I sent him an email?”

“You didn’t ask me when you were in contact with him before?”, Asami put some obviously exaggerated astonishment into his voice.

“Well, it was _him_ contacting _me_ then first. And I guessed that you knew? But now you took his phone away to keep him save. Therefore, I wasn’t sure, if you would consent to him being in contact with me again.”

 _‘Consent’_ , right now that sounded kind of weird, but Asami had to admit that the wording was justified. He had controlled large parts of Akihito’s life for the longest time. Somehow, something in him seemed to have changed, he realized to his own surprise. He knew, he could trust Akihito. He knew, the boy would always come back to him.

But what was the answer? It was weird: of all the people who had ever touched or could have touched Akihito, Fei Long was the one he should feel most jealous about, but for some reason he didn’t. Maybe it was because he knew how much the Chinese cherished Akihito - how much he indeed cherished _anything_ he enjoyed. Perhaps he also just couldn’t blame either for falling for the other…

Or - after all - he just felt forgiving towards Fei Long in a way he would never ever have believed possible.

“No, I don’t mind.”

Whatsoever, he was pretty sure Akihito would write to Fei Long anyway once he was told that the Chinese was out of bed.

“Thank you.”

He nodded again, fully aware that the other didn’t see him. But neither did he see the smile suddenly spready across his face.

“How’s Mikhail?”, he asked a bit louder than necessary, just to make sure he was heard perfectly.

Fei Long didn’t answer for a long moment and Asami could hear him clear his throat before he did.

“He is fine. Why?”

“Oh, just because I heard that he hardly left your bedside. You better keep an eye on him.”

Hesitation again, then the question once more: “Why?” Fei Long sounded kind of perturbed and … abashed.

“Oh, he just seems to like you very much. It would be sad if I had to spank him for interfering with my businesses again.”

A quiet, little chuckle again now, followed by a voice that now appeared stronger and relieved: “From what I gathered, _he_ mostly spanked _you_.”

“You wish.”

“ _I_ would watch.”

Now Asami laughed, then silence fell again. Somehow it felt quite soothing.

“Asami, have a good night”, Fei Long broke it first.

“You as well. Take care.”

The other hung up first. Asami put his phone away and gazed into the endless ocean of light which was the city of Tokyo.


	3. Mikhail

Fei Long recovered pretty quickly. Partly because his body had been perfectly maintained before – with healthy eating and rigorous workouts – and therefore healed easily. But mainly because of his outrageous stubbornness. Whatever the doctors told him not to do, he did. When they pleaded with him to not attend meetings or participate in video conferences which took hours, then there was every bet that nothing would keep him from doing the opposite. And the fact that his left arm was broken and that he had to be carried from room to room or to be brought there in a wheelchair did not do anything to mitigate the respect of his men – or the fear of whomever had displeased him.

The first recommendation he ever listened to, was voiced by a young nurse he had met at one of his many visits to the hospital to have his injuries checked and x-rayed. She had told him, that the best way of speeding up recovery, was to get out of the daily routine for a little bit – and that way he had ended up in Mikhail’s arms again.

For as long as Fei Long had been asleep, he had been with him, but after that he had had to return to Macau. With the end of Chernobog and Viktor Elisov, some unrest had to be subdued and chances taken, and he had been idling pretty long already. It was time to get back into business and prove who was the head of the bratva. Also, Fei Long had not wanted to make their relationship known and the fact that Mikhail Arbatov had been a guest at Baishe HQ had started to stir up questions.

The official version now was, that they had come to a professional understanding and that Mr. Arbatov had wanted to make sure his interest was protected while the other had been indisposed. Furthermore, the tale went that he had felt it was a sign of good business relations to pay his respects to the dragon of Baishe.

Thus for 2 weeks there had been nothing but messages and phone calls, but _now_ – thanks to that young nurse – Mikhail awoke with Fei Long by his side. There was some light shimmering through beneath the curtains that lit up the room a little bit and made him understand that he had probably slept rather long. It wasn’t a luxury he had very often.

Very slowly and cautiously he moved, trying not to wake the other. Fei Long’s left arm was still covered by a brace that kept it immobile from the fingers up to the elbow. He had however loosened the strap, that fixed the brace to his torso, and had therefore been able to place it across the other’s chest. His head lay on the other man’s shoulder, his black, silky hair spread out on Mikhail’s skin and caressed his neck.

The blonde leaned upwards a bit to breathe a kiss onto the Chinese’s forehead. There was no visible sign now left from the head injury he had received from the grip of a gun being smashed down onto him. Yet, when searching with a tender finger one could still find a little bump above his temple.

There was a faint sigh, nothing more.

For a long while Mikhail closed his eyes again, listening to the breathing of the man he loved, feeling how his chest heaved against his own, how skin nestled against skin. He did not really dare to move, as he could not see where Fei Long had placed his legs. Both of his ankles were bound in orthoses that looked like ski boots and were very sturdy. His right knee however was fixed in a less robust brace, and he was worried of hurting him.

Then, however, there was some strange tingling on his chest… and he could not keep himself from chuckling when he finally realized what it was.

The motion of the body which he had used as pillow shook Fei Long awake.

“What?”, he whispered, his voice still sleepy.

“You’re drooling”, Mikhail answered, trying not to giggle too hard.

“I’m not”, came the protest. Fei Long had not moved an inch and very likely had his eyes still closed to just drift off to sleep again.

“Just a little bit. I can feel it!”, Mikhail raised his hand to let it wander across his own skin. There were maybe two or three little drops of saliva, but they were proof enough.

“You’re just having a wet dream.”

 _That_ made him start to snicker for real, even if it rocked Fei Long’s head so hard, that he finally looked up with accusing eyes.

“I’ve been awake for a long while and didn’t move an inch! I just wanted to grant you the luxury of sleeping on the best cushion you’ll ever find. And this gaze is my reward?”, he complained with incredulity, when he looked up into those amethyst eyes defiantly.

“Are you boasting about your restraint and your sacrifice now?”, the Chinese answered narrowing his eyes dangerously.

“Oh, I have been making sacrifices for sooo long”, he let his long, blonde lashes flatter in despair. It was the truth! He had hardly touched Fei Long in weeks, had forced himself to be satisfied with little kisses and caressing his skin, but had abstained from everything else.

“No more!”, he declared to the ceiling above his bed.

“What?”

“No more!”, he boomed, then nodded heavily. With utter tenderness he pushed Fei Long to lie on his back, placing his injured arm across his chest and pulling the strap tight again. It was a little bit like bondage, he thought and grinned. That made Fei Long flinch.

“What are you doing?”

The voice of the dragon of Baishe sounded somewhat thin, a little submissive, in comparison to the look of his eyes just moments ago. He did not put up any struggle, nor did he complain.

Slowly Mikhail allowed himself to sink onto the other, covering the slimmer body with his own, but taking care that he would _not_ put any pressure on the injured arm. It was pretty uncomfortable for himself that way, but he was compensated for that more than sufficiently. He kissed Fei Long, pushing his tongue through into the other’s mouth and there was no resistance. When he started to nibble on his ear and on his neck, when he then moved downwards, the uninjured hand of the other nestled in his blonde curls and pulled him closer. Unhurriedly he made the decent down the shuddering, beautiful body beneath him, twirling his tongue around small, hard nipples, and Fei Long gasped aloud, pressing himself up against the caressing lips.

He paused there, waiting until the Chinese looked up in confusion about why he might have stopped. Then he grinned and pushed himself up, to lean to one side of the bed, cautious to make the mattress move as little as possible. He found some lube in his nightstand and held it up above Fei Long so that he would see it clearly.

“No”, he whispered, but the fingers of his good hand were trailing down Mikhail’s abs, eager to touch flesh, and his eyes were dilated, and cheeks were rosy.

“I’ll be _very_ careful”, Mikhail promised but knew that he could not get rid of the dangerous flash in his blue eyes, while he did so. He spread the liquid on his fingers, then leaned down again, until his face was only inches from that of the man beneath him. Slowly and gently, he pushed one finger inside Fei Long, watching how the sensation made the Chinese moan voicelessly and how more blood shot onto his cheeks.

“We should wait”, the dragon whispered, already panting slightly. He drew his eyebrows together in pleasure and bit his lower lip to disguise it, while he held the stare of the blue eyes.

“You don’t want to wait”, Mikhail knew, and pushed a second finger inside. Fei Long closed his eyes and his whole body shook. His free hand shot upwards again, pushing against the Russian’s broad, muscled chest - not to shove him away but to _feel_ him.

Before long he had three fingers inside the other’s tight opening, twisting and turning them around each other slowly and tenderly. Yet then, he withdrew and straightened up. He crouched across Fei Long’s injured knee, and with all carefulness and caution he could still muster, while his own mind had already become overflown by heat and lust, he pulled the other knee up onto his shoulder. That way he turned the Chinese onto his right side with no pressure threatening the broken arm and fingers, and spread him wide open at the same time.

“Time, I got my reward”, Mikhail snarled dangerously, then shoved his cock inside the other in one very long, deep thrust. Fei Long moaned loudly and grabbed the pillow with his right hand.

At once he pulled out all the way until his throbbing manhood was stark naked and then pushed in again, slowly but forcefully until he was buried to the hilt. It forced another load moan from Fei Long. Like this Mikhail kept going, moving only his hips back and forth with even, long thrusts, pulling all the way out, then penetrating as deep as this marvelous position allowed him – and he was rather certain there was actually no better position for this.

Fei Long writhed and shuddered beneath him, while every shove hit his sweet spot. He had his eyes squeezed shut, and still could not stop the tears of lust; he bit his lips or tried to hide his face in the pillow to silence his moans, but that way he was short of suffocating.

Before long Mikhail had him beg for move. “Harder!”, he breathed out loud and hoarsely. “Please, _uh_! Harder! Faster!”

“I thought so”, Mikhail grinned and sped up, rolling his hips against the other’s, moaning with every thrust himself now.

“Yes!”, Fei Long pleaded. “Harder! Mikhail, _uh_. Fuck me!”

 _That_ had to be the sweetest sound he had heard in his entire life.

And Mikhail adhered to it, his breathing becoming unsteady, his thrusts forceful and hard, until he heard Fei Long cry out and felt his whole body tense and tremble around him. He sailed away into the burning red of orgasm himself, burying his cock several times with raw violence into the other’s tight passage.

When the heat and bliss subsided from his mind, he had to strain every muscle of his body and every glimpse of his consciousness to not let himself fall onto the other men. He placed Fei Long’s leg down softly on the bed and then tumbled down onto the mattress next to him.

For long he just lay there, catching his breath, hearing the other do the same. Only when the Chinese finally cuddled up to him, placing his head on his broad shoulder again, did he open his eyes.

“I knew you didn’t want to wait”, he whispered.

“Neither did your cock”, Fei Long answered, without any complain in his voice.

“It’s been rather starved”, was the most honest reply Mikhail could give.

“Poor thing”, the other retorted, snickering quietly. “I wouldn’t want that to happen. It’s a really nice cock.”


	4. Fei Long

The gate swung open like it had seven years ago. Just as if nothing had changed at all. There was no creaking or rattling. A perfect mechanism moved the heavy metal wings out of the way and the black limousine slowly continued its drive up the hill towards the large mansion. Now there was light glowing inside of the innumerable, large windows, yet to Fei Long the gables and chimneys and high roofs and arches appeared overburdened with worry. He had wanted to come here, but _now_ – with nothing left to block the way between him and the house in which he had grown up – he felt his heart sink.

Tao obviously felt it. For the whole time of their ascent up the roads that lead towards the Peak above Hong Kong the boy had held his hand, and now he grabbed it more firmly.

The eyes of the child however darted quickly about, taking in the dusky gardens and the large building, which had all been kept in perfect shape even though no one had lived here in those seven years. While Fei Long felt meek and couldn’t help his mind being filled by second-thoughts, Tao seemed excited and anticipatory.

In front of the main entrance two large, white vans were parked which belonged to the company of Mrs. Mary Chen, and the elderly lady stepped outside onto the porch just in time to welcome the arriving party. She was a tall woman with a stern face and serious eyes, who was rarely ever seen in anything other than some perfectly tailored, dark suit. She wore one of those right now, her greying hair tied back to a tight bun.

It was her who had been responsible of maintaining and preserving the grounds, the building and everything inside for the last years, and she had cared for all of that as if it was her very own heritage.

She bowed, her hands folded on her stomach, when Yoh stopped the car just in front of the stairs. Tao got out first and helped Fei Long, who still needed crutches for longer walks. Both his ankles were now bound in some tight bandages that just supported them, but his right knee was still fixed in a slight angle by a brace, that he had donned over the tight, thin trousers of his nacre-colored Cheongsam. Luckily his arm had already mostly healed.

“Welcome, Mr. Liu”, Mrs. Chen spoke in that measured, deep voice of hers. “It is an honor for me to be allowed to greet you here.”

“Thank you”, Fei Long answered and bowed his head slightly in return.

Mrs. Chen led them inside, explaining a few details about work that was still being done. Though the building and grounds had been kept so well, some features had been neglected because they had not been used. The fountains in the garden had not been running in years; some of the chimneys of the fireplaces still needed to be cleared before a fire could be kindled beneath them, and the pool was just being cleaned and would be filled with water after that.

“A pool?!”, Tao yelp, his eyes in wonderment turning from the elderly lady who nodded in all serenity to Fei Long.

“Yes, there is a pool”, the man answered.

“May I…” the boy began then looked down the two vast corridors leading away from the central entrance hall. “…may I look around myself?”

Fei Long smiled a tiny bit. The child was growing quickly these days and puberty had started to break his voice and to sprinkle his forehead with small pimples. He was so full of energy as well and staying with the adults – of which one could only move slowly – certainly would be like torture to him. Therefore, he allowed it.

When the boy had already shouted out his gratitude and had started to run away into one direction, he however added: “Tao, answer if I call you.”

“Yes, I will!”, the other replied and with that he was gone.

Sighing inaudibly Fei Long turned around to Mrs. Chen. “Thank you very much. I think we will look around ourselves.”

The lady bowed again. “Of course. I will be at the pool overseeing the work there. If there is anything you need or anything you need to know, just call for me, please.”

She took some steps backwards, still bowing and did only turn her back on Fei Long when she had reached the corridor through which she needed to leave.

“Are you alright?”, Yoh asked quietly, when they were alone. Apart from Tao, he was the only one Fei Long had allowed to come – no, actually, the only one he had _wanted_ to come. Though he wished for Mikhail to be here with him, _now_ , he had felt that he needed to do this without him – for several reasons.

He nodded sternly towards the man who had once betrayed him and would always have died for him. Another sigh he could however not keep from leaving his lips.

“Let’s look around.”

They moved about pretty slowly indeed, but not only because Fei Long couldn’t walk any fast with the crutches. Also, because he needed his time. Sometimes he had to stop here and there, to behold the rooms with all their furniture and decorations which just hadn’t changed at all.

He had paid Mrs. Chen to preserve this house the way it had been, but to actually descry how it was all just the same, made him feel like he was walking through a daydream of his past.

When Tao’s running could be heard somewhere in the building, when he exclaimed in awe or surprise, when he threw open doors or closed them clamorously, it chased chills down Fei Long’s spine. He could see himself rollick about through the hallways, rooms and corridors as the little child he had once been.

But that seemed so long ago, now.

It seemed all lost and vanished.

Finally, he stopped in front of a large, double-winged door. Already Yoh had one hand at the handle, but Fei Long panted: “Stop.”

He bit his lower lip and had to force his breathing to quiet down. For a moment he felt dizzy, but then the world cleared again, and he found the other man’s hand holding tight onto his upper arm.

“Should we take a break?”, Yoh asked.

“No. It’s alright. Open it”, Fei Long answered, his voice still a bit breathless.

Though the carpeted floor had been exchanged with one of a slightly different color – to get rid of the blood stains that had sunken into it – everything else looked just the same. And the world started to tremble and dissolve for real.

He lost his balance and all strength. He fell or rather sank thought time until he saw the blood of his father once again on his hands and felt tears stream down his face hot and burning.

Reality shoved the visions aside when his right knee hit the floor sending a stabbing pain up through his body. He found himself clinging to Yoh, who held him tight, one hand at the back of his head. His own fists grabbed as the other’s jacket; his tears spilled into the fabric of his shirt beneath. He quivered fiercely for a while, but those arms would not let him go, that voice spoke softly to him, and finally, he felt the strength return to his body and mind.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, when he let go of Yoh’s jacket.

“It’s alright. Are you ok, Fei?”

He nodded in response, hesitant first, but then with certainty.

“Yes, I am alright. I _need_ to do this.”

The other man helped him back up and he could now allow his eyes to take in the room, without any memories sweeping down onto him like a bird of prey on his haul.

He had ordered to keep everything in this mansion and on the grounds as it had been back then to commemorate his father – but somehow, he had never thought of ever coming here again himself. That however, had changed.

 _He_ had changed and he started to wonder how and when.

For seven years he had been full of anger. The thought of vengeance had kept his blood flowing and his heart pumping. Still, he had not sought revenge against Asami, because _he_ had kept away from Hong Kong all the time, as if he knew that once he sat foot there again or mingled in any businesses that would raise Fei Long’s attention, doom would turn _his_ way. Then, after all, there had been that little disk he stole and then the man he tried to protect from Baishe, and lastly the time for vengeance seemed to have come.

And _yet_ … Fei Long had never executed it.

For once, because he had learned that Asami had not killed his father – at least not the one _he_ had understood to _be_ his father. About Toh or him dying he had never cared!

But that had not been all. There had been more, which had changed him.

He had understood his own fault, he had understood how much Asami had cared, he had grasped the injustice done by himself _and_ by others – because he had started to face his own demons. _That_ was the reason, why he was here today. _That_ was the reason, why he had not used that gun on the Casino Ship to shoot Yoh, who had betrayed him. _That_ was the reason, why he had decided to…

Tears filled his eyes again and he swallowed them.

Yoh just stood next to him, his eyes fixed on the smaller man, his face expressionless, but Fei Long could see now what others were never able to fathom. He could see better now in so many regards. The world seemed to have changed, but he understood that in fact only himself had transformed and his view on everything around.

He had dared to face his demons, because of Akihito. _He_ had been the first to ever cry for him – for his own sake and for his own soul.

 _“If one of my friends were acting like this, I’d deck him for being an idiot!_ ”, Akihito had shouted at him and in a way, he had indeed punched him with that.

The boy had been the beginning, in some way – only that Fei Long had not understood it for a long time.

“This is the room where my father died”, he now felt able to explain to Yoh, who had certainly realized it already. Still, he needed to voice it – and more: “ _Yan_ did it. Back then I thought it had been Asami, but… though he had been sent to manipulate and use me, in the end he didn’t. He wanted to protect me. He would never have done such a thing to me. He would never had hurt me in that way.”

His gaze fixed on that spot, where he could see himself now, kneeling on the floor, his father dying in his arms. “I loved him, my father. But…”, a lump formed in his throat to keep him from talking, but he forced it away. He needed to voice this, even if it made small tears roll down his cheeks again. “I _did_ love Yan. When we were younger, I loved him. He was a good brother. He took care of me. He was always worried and caring towards me. No matter what he did later, I will not forget _that_!”

Warm and firm he felt Yoh’s hand on his shoulder, and he grabbed the crutches in one fist, to touch that hand with his own fingers. To hold it, to squeeze it.

Only after a while he turned towards the other man, looking into his eyes pleading: “Mikhail can never know of what Yan did in Taiwan. He can never find out what he _tried_ to do. It would hurt him _so_ much. Mikhail wanted to help me, by giving me a reason to dispose of someone who was an obvious threat. He did not realize that I obey to the rules of the triad and that they forbid me to just sent an assassin officially. He did not anticipate that I would have to go and deal with this secretly, he did not foresee what could happen or what kind of person Yan had become.”

Yoh nodded slowly but clearly. “I understand. He will not _ever_ hear about anything of it from me.”

Mirroring the nod, Fei Long grabbed the other’s hand tighter. “Despite everything – and not because of what he means to me today – I am grateful that Mikhail forced me to go to Taiwan: Because he made me call on _you._ ”

“Maybe I should send him some box of chocolates as a _‘thank you’_ -gift”, Yoh answered and an almost invisible smile tugged on the corner of his lips.

“I think he’s getting enough treats”, Fei Long answered, feeling the smile on his own face being a bit prurient.

A cry somewhere in the building startled them both. They flinched, then froze. Wailing followed an instant later.

Marching out of the room as quickly as he could on the crutches, Fei Long followed Yoh, who listened into the hallways and corridors and rooms to make out where the noise was coming from.

They found Tao in a study which opened into a vast library through some large, high doors. The child sat on the floor in front of the massive, wooden desk, squeezing both fists in front of his eyes and sobbing into them so hard his whole body shook.

On the table there had been two framed pictures as Fei Long remembered, but now there was only one left: in a slim, beautifully ornamented silver frame a monochrome photograph of himself had been preserved. His eighteen-year-old self looked past the lens with a melancholy expression on his face. A long, thick braid hung over one of the shoulders of the cheongsam which in reality had been golden.

The other photograph – the one with Yan in it – lay shattered on the floor.

With the help of Yoh, Fei Long sank down next to the boy and pulled him into his arms.

“I’m sorry!”, Tao sobbed, his words broken and swept away by the tears, his voice high and thin and full of sorrow and anger. “That’s _him_ , right? I hate him!”

Suddenly he fell into Fei Long’s arms, hugging him tightly, pushing his face against the other’s chest. The child trembled with his sobs and words, clawing at the Cheongsam, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I am so sorry! I’m sorry for everything I said to you! I am so sorry! I hate him! I hate him!”

Fei Long pulled him even closer. He kissed the boy’s temple and forehead, and swayed him softly in his arms.

It took minutes for Tao to calm down, in which Yoh had disposed of the silver frame and broken glass – keeping the photograph but hiding it away where it would not been spotted by the boy again easily. All the while Fei Long did not let go of him and talked to him softly.

Tao had said some things in anger to him many weeks ago, but he had already forgotten them. He had known that all the claims back then had been meaningless expressions of anger. There had been no truth in them, and he would forget them completely once more.

Finally, sitting on a table in the large kitchen, Tao sipped on some hot chocolate that Mrs. Chen had been able to provide from the already filled storerooms and cupboards.

“Fei Long?”, the boy spoke, when the tears had all vanished and his eyes sparkled in excitement again, “can we celebrate your birthday here?”

Both men looked at the child in surprise.

“We haven’t planned anything yet. It would be nice to do it here, wouldn’t it? To… make this place filled with life again? Make some new memories?”

He took a quick sip from the chocolate, but talked on right away, as if to quench any protest. “We could invite the children from that orphanage you support? They could swim in the pool, and…”

“I don’t know if they can swim, Tao”, Fei Long interrupted meekly. _‘Making new memories…’_ , that did not sound like the worst of ideas. But could he just do that? Allow _‘new life’_ inside?

“Then we invite some teachers for that, and we help them with learning to swim. And we could play hide and seek in the gardens if the weather is nice and have a barbeque. I’ve never had a barbeque.”

Tao screwed his eyes to look at the ceiling now while he was thinking up new ideas: “If the weather is not too nice, we can still play hide and seek inside. Or scavenger hunt! And we can have cake and music! I think that sounds great?”

He looked back at Fei Long with insecurity flooding his eyes now. They were uncle and nephew… or in a way even more than that. But they also were master and servant still. It was hard to tell where the border was. Where the one ended and the other began.

The child would call him “Master Fei Long” whenever men of Baishe were around, but he would omit the title, once they were alone. Maybe _there_ was the line?

Yet _here_ , at this place, with men of Baishe only securing the outer perimeters but not setting foot onto the grounds or into the building, they, maybe, really could be _just_ family…

“Yes, it does”, Fei Long admitted and found himself smiling. “It sounds like a good idea.”

“And we could invite Akihito over! You haven’t seen him in such a long time. And I am sure he’d like to see _you_. And Mikhail! He could come as well, and you can start your adult’s party when the children have left in the evening.” Now Tao started to grin with mirth and cheekiness. “And you can start drinking and doing those things only old people like to do at parties after that.”


	5. Asami

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to LisuliaH for telling me about Bai Suzhen and the 'Legend of the White Snake'!

Akihito received the invitation via email and showed it to Asami right away with a little frown on his face. The older man couldn’t help it: He just had to laugh at the text. Fei Long was a master of etiquette. He’d probably be able to teach the queen of England some manners. Yet when it came to writing something casual as a birthday invitation for what was obviously supposed to be a private gathering, he was completely lost. The text he had sent read like it had been produced by a self-learning artificial intelligence which had only been given legal texts and insurance policies beforehand.

The snickering had however not lasted long, because Akihito’s frown had quickly turned into an expression of taunt. “As if _you_ would do better! Do you even have _any_ _friends_ you could invite?”, the brat had asked, and Asami had snatched him and had dragged him to bed.

However, there was some truth in those words. Presumably, he hadn’t done any better himself.

The next day Akihito had received a second email, this time written by Tao and with a much more casual and clearer message.

Some weeks later they sat in a black limousine, steered by Suoh, that took them from the airport of Hong Kong into the hills above the city, and Akihito, who had been joyous and excited all the time before had gradually fallen quiet. Now he stared out of the window while the city slowly vanished below them and behind the trees, with eyes overshadowed by thought.

It seemed to Asami as if the kid had indeed _wanted_ to see Fei Long – and that boy Tao –, but with everything he had forgiven and forgotten, he had also neglected who the Chinese actually was. No matter how much Akihito appeared determined to like _him_ , Fei Long was still one of the most powerful – and dangerous – men in the whole of Asia. Furthermore, he was a threat and an enemy to Asami’s businesses, and also Akihito did still not know anything about what had happened between the two older men seven years ago.

Where Asami was concerned, he really _never_ needed to find out. _That_ time was history, long forgotten and lived down. It was also a private matter, that he did not want to revisit even in memory.

Some little time ago Asami had laughed at anybody who would have told him, that he would fly to Hong Kong to visit Fei Long on a … well … friendly basis. But times changed. The idea however still was strange to him and Akihito’s certainty that they _should_ definitely go, had quenched his doubts. Now it was the kid who was plagued by second thoughts, and Asami did honestly not know who to chase them away.

Maybe… they should just turn around and leave. Get back to the jet, return to Japan, send some apology.

 _‘Leave!’_ , he had told himself years ago. _‘Just get out of here. There is nothing left to do. Just leave!’_

But then Suoh stopped the car in front of the giant gate which Asami somehow still remembered quite well. Seven years ago, he had knocked down two guards who had spotted him entering the grounds by climbing over the high wall surrounding the gardens. On his way out and back to his car which he had parked somewhere down the nearest road, he had however had that unconscious twenty-one-year-old in his arms and had not been able to scale _anything_. Instead, he had forced the gate open after searching for the emergency mechanism in near-full-darkness and pouring rain.

After Suoh had announced them via intercom, the gate swung open quietly and they continued up the little slope which ended in front of the giant mansion.

Akihito cleared his throat as if he needed to make sure he was still breathing, and Asami placed one hand on his knee to reassure him.

A little sheepish laugh followed, when the boy grabbed his fingers and squeezed them. His skin felt a bit cold and wet, and he pushed himself backwards into the leather seat.

“Are you alright?”, the older asked, and the sheepish smile turned towards him.

“Yes, I am. Just a bit… I don’t know. I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.”

Next to a mini car, which Asami had seen weeks before, and a large, dark coach, they stopped, and whatever uneasiness might have halted Akihito before, suddenly was gone. There was a happy shriek echoing over to them, followed by Tao storming out of the house and down the porch, towards them. Akihito hardly managed to get out of the car, before the child through himself around the other.

“Yeeeees! I’m so happy you’re here! I’m so happy you came!”, Tao yelled, his voice swaying between high, squeaky tones and lower, hoarse ones. He had some pimples on his forehead and cheeks, and seemed to have grown taller a bit even in that short time the Japanese hadn’t seen him.

Hugging each other tightly, Akihito and Tao several times nearly lost their balance and fought it back, and when the older boy turned back to Asami, there was no worry left showing on his face.

It didn’t even reappear, when Fei Long stepped down the porch, his footsteps as quiet as if he hardly touched the ground. His black hair had been tugged to a rather loose knot at the back of his head and several strands had managed to escape. He wore dark grey suit-trousers and a white shirt – no traditional Chinese clothing, no 3-piece suit – and looked strangely casual with some buttons at his collar being left open and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. There was no sign left of his injuries. The brace on his arm was gone, as well as those he had had to wear on his right knee and both ankles. There was even some slight tint of color on his cheeks, as if he was blushing a little. He looked so much more alive, than he had the last time Asami had seen him.

Seeing Fei Long approach, Akihito let go of Tao. He tarried for a moment, looking at the other, as if he was suddenly scared, but then he broke into a smile, rushed forward and threw his arms around the Chinese’s chest.

Though visually the mansion hadn’t changed one bit, it felt completely different to Asami. Back then, when he had walked through the vast hallways, when he had hurried through the lavish rooms, it had seemed like anger and envy, sadness and despair, hate and neglect haunted the beautiful place in the shape of invisible, cold ghosts. _Now_ , the laughing of children echoed through the halls and corridors and made them brim with life and light.

Tao jumped and ran, calling the adults to hurry up, when they followed the noise. It led them to the giant pool which was housed in what looked to be a winter garden, yet it was taller than most sports halls. All the windows had been opened and so white steam welled outside, stirred up by the about forty children who romped about everywhere and slashed up water and laughed and shrieked in joy. There were only three adults, who still kept a close eye on the kids of which some were dressed in life jackets as they obviously could not swim – which did not hinder those children from having just as much fun and everyone else.

The sight made Akihito’s eyes widen and sparkle with joy and excitement. Tao had written them to bring along swimwear, and now the brat was evidently happy that he had listened to the suggestion.

It would have to wait, however, Asami thought to himself, as he dragged his lover out of the winter garden onto a giant terrace, where tables had been prepared for dinner, drinks and salads and snacks and sweets were offered on a long buffet, and where two cooks handled a barbecue grill as huge as an SUV.

“Wow!”, Akihito exclaimed, stopping dead in his tracks so abruptly that Asami, who still had his hand on the other’s shoulder to lead him outside, stumbled in surprise. The boy’s gaze took in the variety of cakes and chocolates, of cheese and crackers, dim sum and sushi, and the steaks and spear ribs and cutlets and lamp chops, readied to be placed above the fire.

“Holy…”, the kid started to whisper in awe, but then clapped a hand to his mouth. It took him a while to realize that there were other guests out there as well – only two actually. Wrenching his eyes away from the opulence, he first spotted Yoh, and threw himself at the Chinese, who patted the younger man’s shoulder, looking surprised and confused, even though nothing showed on his face. Then Akihito saw Mikhail, who had a drink in hand and had nestled into a large, lush sofa, leaving a space to one side as if he hoped that someone – a _certain_ someone presumably – would join him there. No one did, but that did nothing to mitigate the beaming grin on his face, as he toasted towards the newly arrived. And Akihito raised one arm slightly, froze for a second, then started to smile and waved his hand at the Russian.

“Hello Mikhail”, he said in English, while the expression on his face turned sheepish and cheeky at the same time.

Two hours later, Akihito had to pass on playing hide and seek with Tao and the other children in the gardens, because he felt like he could hardly move anymore. Sluggishly he dragged himself back onto the terrace which was now – as the sun slowly faded from the sky – warmed by small lanterns, and sank into the deck chair next to Asami.

Though he was so lean and smallish, he had certainly eaten the most, though Tao and Mikhail had not been far behind, and several times he had held his plate high up into the air to avoid bumping into any of the children who scurried around the tables and buffet – yet it had seemed like he _actually_ wanted to prevent anyone else to snatch away whatever he had gathered for himself.

Sometimes Asami was not sure if Akihito simply got pretty hungry now and then, or if he suffered from some strange case of food envy. The result of his overindulgence however was always pure bliss. Just like now: his cheeks where slightly flushed, his eyes sparkled and there was some expression of contentment on his face one did not often see on anybody.

“Didn’t you want to have a swim?”, Asami felt like teasing.

“Not now!”, Akihito answered and let himself sink heavily against the back rest. “I would just drown, because I’m too heavy.”

He shot upwards a moment later, obviously not really as lumbering as he pretended to be, and looked at Asami. “You will come as well? Won’t you?”

“Well, someone will have to save you from drowning.”

The reply made Akihito happy, and he sank back into the chair with a loud sigh, closing his eyes. Asami however paused when his thoughts clouded for a moment. He had pulled out Akihito of a swimming pool some months ago, after the kid had had a panic attack and had almost drowned.

And he had resuscitated Fei Long only weeks ago after Sudou had pulled him down from the third floor and they had both fallen into some shallow pond. It had been the second time he had begged the Chinese not to die in his arms.

Now Fei Long stood at the edge of the terrace, sipping on some Champagne. Quietly – so that the noise of the children drowned their words – he spoke to Mikhail. There was a small gap between them, wide enough that another person could squeeze in between, though the Russian’s arm twitched now and then as if he wanted to get rid of the emptiness keeping them both apart.

Instinctively and before he even realized it, Asami had placed one hand again on Akihito’s knee. The boy looked at him, opening only one eye for that. He still seemed content but a bit tired now, and his smile and sigh wrapped around the older man who had just been hit by some unexpected chill before.

“Good, that we came here”, Akihito whispered, then turned his head a bit to rest it with more comfort against a pillow.

After nightfall the children finally left, and Tao proclaimed that now the adults were allowed to have their _own_ party. Yet _he_ didn’t leave. Instead, he snatched a bottle of Champagne and refilled all the glasses, no matter if he was asked to or not.

Then he suddenly vanished with Akihito and they did not return for some long minutes in which Asami found himself talking with Yoh about … everyday life. It was strange, though it did not feel out of place.

Yoh had once worked for him, had never betrayed him, even when his heart had given him any reason to. After Asami had left the casino ship with Akihito he had been sure that he would never see the Chinese again. There didn’t seem to be any chance in the world that Fei Long would not hunt him down and kill him.

But Fei Long hadn’t. And now Yoh sat here, in one of the cozy, yet large living rooms and sipped on a glass of Champagne so lightly, he merely seemed to wet his lips on the alcohol.

Then the boys came back with a large bottle of beetroot juice, a staple of post-its and a thick, black pen.

“Let’s play ‘ _who am I?_ ’!”, Tao demanded. Asami was not sure if this was what the kid believed to be what adults did at a party...

Akihito threw his hands into the air in response and tossed some of the post-its around the room doing so, involuntarily. For a minute or more both boys laughed and only managed to quiet down with some effort.

“No, thanks”, Asami passed the offer, which gained him an annoyed gaze from his lover and an eye-roll from Tao. Mikhail – on the other hand – just shrugged and volunteered. He sat down with the other two around a low table, on which the Chinese kid filled new glasses with Champagne and one with the juice – that one was obviously for himself, and even _watching_ the dark red liquid seemed to fill him with dread.

“I need a little break. I’ll be back in a moment”, Fei Long excused himself suddenly.

“Are you alright?”, Yoh and Mikhail asked him at the same time and didn’t even seem to mind the respective other’s concern.

“Yes, I am. Just a bit tired. I’ll be back. Behave yourselves”, the master of the house answered and then left.

Akihito now grabbed Yoh at the sleeve. “ _You_ will have to play as well. With only three there’s no fun!”

The Chinese frowned at that, what was more expression than he usually showed. “Eh…”, he started but maybe the little bit of alcohol had indeed affected him, because he didn’t come up with an excuse.

“Come on!”, Mikhail beamed at him. “I’ll give you something nice.”

Helplessly Yoh slipped from his chair onto the floor to meet the others around the low table. He now in fact looked a bit dejectedly, and Asami couldn’t help but drown his own snickering behind his glass.

A minute later there were yellow post-its sticking to everyone else’s forehead with thick, black letters giving the name of some real person or fictional character – for anybody to see except for the one wearing the respective piece of paper. Once more, Asami couldn’t avoid laughing, but he did his best to keep it noiseless, as he feared to be forced to enter into the game if he got caught having any fun at all.

“Am I fic… tious.. fictional?”, Tao asked and thereby started the game.

“Yes!”, Akihito declared and nodded happily. Again, there was some blush on his cheeks but _now_ Asami was sure it was from the alcohol.

Grinning widely, Ta, thought for a moment, then asked: “Am I male?”

“Yes, you are!”

“So…”, now the kid screwed up his eyes and looked at the ceiling, “am I… human?”

“No! You’re not!”, Akihito shot back and pushed the glass with beetroot juice towards the child with utter glee.

“Ugh!”, Tao exclaimed to that, but the reply _‘no’_ forced him to drink. _‘Godzilla’_ was written on the post-it on his forehead in Yoh’s neat handwrite.

Then it was Akihito’s turn – and though Asami did not know who the hell _‘Princess Elsa’_ was, he suddenly imagined his lover in some long, shimmering Disney-Princess dress and had to admit, that he was maybe a tiny bit drunk himself.

“Am I real?”, Akihito chimed in full confidence and all answered: “No!”

With a low growl he drank a large sip of his Champagne.

Then it was Mikhail’s turn, and when everyone turned with a grin to look at the post-it above the Russian’s blue eyes, Asami couldn’t keep his straight face anymore.

“I’ve got to step out”, he excused himself and rushed from the room.

He strolled down the long main hallways, giggling into his glass and feeling a bit childish indeed. It was strange how much this place had changed in the way he perceived it.

His mood only dampened, when he stopped at a large two-winged door, which stood open. Seven years ago, he had entered this room without asking permission. He had confronted the old master Liu, knowing that he should not have come there.

 _‘Don’t!’_ , he had told himself, when he had stopped the car down the road. _‘No!’_ , his mind had exclaimed when he had climbed the wall. _‘This is not your job! Get out of here!’_ , those words had rung through his mind, and he had known them to be truth. And yet…

He stepped through the door into what had once been the study and living room of the private chambers of the old man. In the fireplace a small fire was still crackling. Though it didn’t usually get very cold in Hong Kong all these old mansions had fireplaces and chimneys a plenty, and several had been lit in the rooms here at nightfall.

On an antique chaise lounge in front of the golden, dancing flames, he found Fei Long. He had his eyes closed, but once he heard Asami approach, he looked up. His glass stood on a table nearby, still full.

“Are you alright?”, the Japanese asked and the other closed his eyes again.

“Yes. Just too much… alcohol.”

 _‘Leave!’_ , he had told himself back then, so fiercely he had not been sure if he did not even speak it out aloud several times. But he had not been able to. Nor was he now.

Instead, he sat down on the floor in front of the chaise lounge, twirled his glass between his fingers and enjoyed the sight and warmth of the flames.

“Are they still playing?”, Fei Long asked after a while, and Asami again had to keep down a snicker.

“Yes, they are.”

“Who is who?”

To voice the reply to that, Asami had to even rub his hand over his mouth to chase away the laugh. “Tao is Godzilla, Yoh is Jackie Chan, Akihito is some Princess Elsa? And Mikhail is… Winnie the Pooh.”

Fei Long chuckled. “Well, it fits”, he added after a moment.

“How?”

“Mishka is an ab.. breviation of Mikhail. It means _‘bear’_.”

“Huh!”, Asami made. Fitting or not, that Akihito had pinned a post-it with that name onto the forehead of a man as cunning and sly and dangerous as Mikhail Arbatov could be, still made him laugh. Though it made him wonder…

“What name would you have given me?”, he asked, only turning slightly to look at Fei Long from the corner of his eye. The other answered without taking a moment to think or even moving.

“Orpheus.”

“Who tried to save the love of his life from the underworld?”

The confirmation was just a quiet _‘mh’_ , followed by: “Or Menelaos.”

Asami turned back to the flames with a faint smile far from the laughter that had tried to wreck his features before. “Who launched a thousand ships to get back the woman he loved.”

Some laughter could be heard through the hallway. Only when it had subsided, did Fei Long ask, “and _I_?”

“Huh”, Asami made, but still needed some thinking before he finally answered: “Bai Suzhen.”

Fei Long looked up at that, lifting his head a little bit from the pillow on which he lay. “I didn’t expect you to know that story.”

“I am a well-read person”, Asami proclaimed, then drank a large gulp from his Champagne and started to grin. “But I guess Smaug would have been good as well.”

“Who is that?”

“A really fucking dangerous and mean dragon in the Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit.”

Now Fei Long snickered. “Yes, that sounds fine.”

 _‘What are you doing? Get out of here!’_ , he had berated himself seven years ago. _‘This is a job, nothing else! Don’t mix things up!’_

Yet that had been a lie back then, and on that one evening he had finally understood.

Too late.

Too fucking late!

Asami flinched, when he felt Fei Long’s fingers at the back of his head, tenderly brushing through his short hair. But then he relaxed. There was so urge in him to pull away.

“There are some tiny grey hairs in there”, the Chinese spoke very softly and with some small bit of glee audible in his voice.

“Well, I am not twenty-eight anymore.”

Truly… he wasn’t. Not in any way.

He was not that _man_ anymore, who in the end had started to believe that it was wise and brave to run away. _Now_ he knew, that back then he had been weak. Some months ago, he had mused to himself that maybe the time had come for him to finally pay for his screw up in Hong Kong – and for his vanity and pride and overconfidence. Today that thought however just made him sneer at himself.

It hadn’t been _him_ who had paid for any of his mistakes. It had always been others who had had to pay the price while he had pretended to be infallible and unaffected.

It had always been those, for whom he had cared – Akihito and Fei Long.


	6. Mikhail

„Winnie the Pooh!“, he laughed to himself as he left the room, where Akihito and Tao had just started another round of ‘Who am I?’. In any other circumstance he was sure they had demanded of him to join them in that, but he had a good excuse about which at least Tao and Yoh were informed. And Akihito, who just looked up for a moment in wonderment about him leaving as well, was quickly distracted by the boy gluing a new Post-it to his forehead.  
While he walked down the corridor of the vast, beautiful mansion Mikhail wondered how many men would indeed have been offended by that character the Japanese had bestowed upon him. A bear from a children’s story!  
But he didn’t care. It was a game! It was fun! And even if that kid Akihito might have given him the name out of spite or mockery, Mikhail didn’t mind. Other people’s opinions were of no significance to him… or at least most people’s opinions weren’t. Of course, there were always a few exceptions.  
In his book there were three types of men. He himself, he was pretty sure, belonged into the group which were at ease with themselves. He knew who he was, what he was, how he was. He had no fantasies about being a better man than others, about being holier-than-thou. He was a criminal, he was a murderer, he sold drugs and people and weapons, and prospered by it. He lied and betrayed and manipulated. He also was often weak and feared about losing what he wanted or loved. He was able to cry when his heart was hurt or his soul, he knew pain and suffering and sorrow and that he made mistakes. Stupid, ridiculous mistakes!  
But he was aware of all of that. He admitted to it. He wasn’t bulletproof nor infallible nor incorruptible.  
Then there were men like Asami who always thought of themselves as being better than others. Who did not face their mistakes and demons and believed that their impeccability and integrity always remained intact even when everybody around saw how they crumbled and how everything got to waste due to that man’s stubbornness. Men like that sometimes learned at some point, when they held only shards and debris in their hands, and hopefully Asami had got the one or other lesson in the months before… Yet Mikhail did not care if he had or not.  
The third group were men like Fei Long who thought too little of themselves. Who always craved to live up to some idea they had hung upon themselves like a Damocles sword. He believed himself unworthy, too fickle, to weak, even if you could not tear them down with an atom bomb.  
To a man like Asami the name tag ‘Winnie the Pooh’ on his forehead had probably been an insult and he had felt the need for vengeance to proof his manliness. To a man like Fei Long that name might have been another pinch in his doubt-martyred soul. To Mikhail however it was just a game. It did not say anything about him.

He found the two men who had previously sneaked from the other room in a large study. Fei Long had laid down on a Chinese chaise longue, Asami sat a step away on the carpeted floor in front of the fire which had already almost burned down.  
When Mikhail approached and leaned onto the dark wood backrest of the chaise longue, Fei Long opened his eyes and looked up at him. He seemed tired.  
“Hello, Winnie!”, he said, smiling cheekily, nevertheless.  
“Oh, of course you had to tell him that!”, Mikhail turned to Asami, with pretended hurt in his voice.  
The Japanese only looked back from the corner of his eye.  
“But it fits”, Fei Long replied. “Mishka the Pooh.”  
“So, you would have given me that name as well? Or did you put Akihito up to it?”, Mikhail still played at complaining.  
“No”, Fei Long shook his head slightly. His eyes fell onto Asami while he did so. For a second he watched the other man, then closed his eyes again. A small smile remained on his lips however and that looked kind of sly to Mikhail.  
“I would have given you James Dean. He was sexy.”  
Asami raised one eyebrow at that and turned back to the fire. It was rather sad, Mikhail thought, because that way the Japanese did not get to see that stupid grin on his face.  
He had to get rid of it soon though, because time was slowly running out…  
“So, are you alright?”  
Fei Long sighed deeply, then looked up again. “Yes. I am. Too much alcohol just always makes me feel tired.”  
“Too bad”, Mikhail mused. “But I will need your full attention now. I have something for you.”  
At that Fei Long raised himself up a bit with a deep frown forming between his brows.  
“I told you not to bring anything!”  
“I did not bring anything”, Mikhail retorted smiling, then reached down one hand to help the Chinese up. “I invited someone.”  
Confused Fei Long blinked at him, the frown still there. He seemed a bit angry… yet, also curious. He raised his hand to take Mikhail’s, but paused midways, deliberated for another moment, then finally allowed the Russian to help him up.  
They left the room, Asami trailing behind, went upstairs to the second floor of the large library and stepped out onto the balcony there. Tao, Yoh and Akihito followed only steps behind.

Out there, Fei Long shielded his eyes with one hand and squinted – as did everyone else. It was close to midnight now and night had fallen long hours ago. On the balcony however there was broad daylight. One white spotlight in the form of a balloon had been put onto the balustrade. It was so bright it threw everything around into utter blackness.  
Next to it hung one black cord that had been fixed there with a big red ribbon.  
Only able to take little glances Fei Long looked around in confusion.  
“Did you invite some lighting technician?”, he asked, looking back up at Mikhail.  
“No”, Mikhail answered factually. Then he handed the other man his golden Zippo.  
“You have to light that fuse, now. Happy Birthday, Fei Long!”  
He knew he was sporting his stupidest grin now, but he just couldn’t help it.  
The other however kept watching him, blinking and doubting, until Tao stepped up.  
“Do it! Do it!”, the boy demanded, and finally, Fei Long switched on the lighter and put the little flame to the black cord.  
At once it started to sizzle and sparkle and ran up and over and down from the balustrade into the garden. Suddenly the light from the white balloon expired, and in the darkness, there was nothing left but the glimmering sparks running away down and away from them.  
Then… there was a violin playing somewhere. Softly, quietly.  
Fei Long drew in his breath by Mikhail’s side and kept it. He searched the night that had fallen upon the garden but his eyes which had been blinded before still needed time to adjust.  
A second violine set in, playing the same tune. A third, a fourth.  
And the tiny flame still wandered away from them, already hard to discern in the distance and finally went out. Silence…  
…for a moment…  
As if one suddenly about 50 sparklers in the middle of the garden were lit, all spraying stars, like white flowers blooming where a second before there had been nothing but oblivion and desolation.  
Then the violins played again, now joined by Cellos, and a choir of girls started to sing. It was a slow, beautiful tune that slowly gained force until the refrain filled the garden with a hymn that might have been written by angels.  
The words were German, so Mikhail knew that Fei Long did not understand them… but he didn’t need to. The melody, the hurt and sorrow and hope emitting from those siren’s tunes was enough to convey the meaning.  
The song’s name translated to “Hungry Heart” and Mikhail knew very much how that metaphor felt once suffered. He had endured that hurt for so very long.  
He would have wished to take a happier song for this, yet none of them sounded so beautiful or would have been able to fill the night and darkness with light and warms as well as this one.  
It was a song of longing and suffering, of a love not reciprocated. Yet also one of enjoying every bit of the sorrow for as long as hope remained.  
Mikhail had longed and suffered, and had enjoyed it still because he had never given up hope.  
In the end the voices and music grew quieter and slower, then finally fell silent. The sparkles went out the same moment. Darkness fell again but now their eyes had adjusted to it. The sky above was clear showing the few stars that could be seen through the light pollution of the near city.  
Fei Long still stared down into the garden. The girls and musicians were dressed in black and had pulled hoods over their heads. They left quietly and quickly, while nobody on the balcony moved.  
With a heavy swallow at last Fei Long stirred. He only turned his head a little bit towards Mikhail, who smiled at him again. The Chinese’s lips quivered momentarily, and he blinked several times – maybe to get rid of a tear?  
“That was beautiful, Mikhail”, he said in Russian then.  
“Thank you”, he answered in Cantonese.  
Suddenly Fei Long looked up and into his eyes. There ran a shudder through his body, but he clenched his fists to calm it and bit his lips.  
“Wow”, Akihito whispered in awe, but did not get to say anything else. Mikhail didn’t not turn to confirm this impression, but it seemed to him like Asami had snatched his lover by the back of his collar and pulled him back through the doors, after Yoh and Tao had already sneaked inside.  
Then they were alone out there, where now even the last interference of the white balloon had been cleared from their gaze. In the darkness Fei Long’s eyes seemed black as they stared up into his. His lips trembled again. It seemed like he wanted to move but could not allow it. Again, he clenched his fists tightly, to control himself, and Mikhail knew why: Even if the guests had gone inside there was no telling who was watching.  
The servants were still new and Fei Long was not an easily trusting person. There were also still some fifty people somewhere. Foreign girls and musicians, yes, but still… And somewhere along the outer perimeters of the gardens there were also Baishe men patrolling. And the dragon could and would not allow himself to be seen kissing another man by any of them. Especially not Mikhail Arbatov. There would be enough rumor already, just because the Russian was here today. Yet, still they would be able to shrug it off as some partnership in crime, some business agreement. Friendship, if anybody desperately wanted to interpret more. Nevertheless, not anything more than that.  
Mikhail understood and still it hurt like hell. But there was always to be some hurt coming along with something as beautiful as the man besides him.  
“I’m glad you liked it. Tao and Yoh had to help, so a little credit goes to them as well”, Mikhail explained measuredly. He still looked into Fei Long’s eyes, still could not make himself move. That was the hope, which was always there, no matter what. Maybe for some unlikely reason the world would just turn, laws would become irrational and reason as fickle as a seeding dandelion. Well…, not today it seemed.  
He could not prevent a little sigh, when he shrugged, then nodded towards Fei Long and went back inside.  
The other guests had walked down the spiral stairs to the first floor of the library. Only a few lights were lit, and everybody was just dimly illuminated. Akihito and Asami were talking quietly, Tao was yarning and Yoh was watching as Mikhail approached the stairs to walk down.  
Afterall, he felt good. It had worked and Fei Long had liked it. In a stupid romantic American movie, there would have been kisses and a confession. Maybe even a proposal. People would have cheered. Happy ending! Cheesy stuff!  
Their world was not built like that. They could have their happiness behind closed doors. That had to be enough. He smiled still, just because it did not make him sad. He had expected exactly this and had gotten it.  
When he arrived at the top landing the door to the balcony moved behind him. He heard Fei Long’s steps, unusually quick, and turned around in irritation, just soon enough to catch the other man as he flung himself into his arms.  
Fei Long embraced him tightly, leaning his chin on the taller man’s shoulder. His fingers trailed through his blonde curls and pulled his head even closer, until Mikhail could feel those beautiful lips at his ear.  
“Thank you!”, Fei Long whispered and it made him shudder and cling to the smaller man for balance.  
Some other words spoken like this and he would have fainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song played in the garden is this one https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6eNQcVkkss  
> Just imagine it with violins instead of pianos =D


	7. Fei Long

That melody resounded in his mind, though the musicians and the choir of girls had left. He lay in his room, staring up into the darkness above his bed, and could hear it still. Every tune of the violins, every syllable of the song. _Now_ however it did not come from outside, for the gardens lay silent beneath the night sky.

 _Now_ it originated from somewhere inside the building: Down the corridor, behind one certain door. And though it echoed up to his ears so clearly, he was sure nobody else did perceive. Except for _one_ maybe.

It kept him from sleeping. And then he had to admit to himself, that he did not even _want_ to sleep anyway.

He got up, put a night robe around his pajamas and stepped out into the hallway quietly. The mansion lay in quiet just like the gardens around, illuminated only by a few lamps here and there, and his steps were muffled by the thick carpets.

His guests had all withdrawn to the rooms they had been given for the night, which all lay in the same wing of the building, and Fei Long knew with certainty whom he would find in which one. _And_ from behind which door the melody reached out to him, without being audible to anybody else.

He stepped up to it but did not get to touch the handle. A chill caught him around the neck, some light brise played with the strands of his hair. At the end of the hallway a glass door was opened which led onto a small balcony.

As quietly as before he continued his walk and stepped outside. The next lamp was quite a distance down the corridor and only a little brightness fell this way, nearly hiding the man sitting to the right side on the balustrade and leaning against the wall. He drew from his cigarette, a tiny glow lighting up momentarily like a lazy firefly.

“Can’t sleep?”, Asami asked, his voice merely a whisper but still deep. His and Akihito’s room was next door, but none of the guestrooms had a balcony.

“It seems I am not the only one?”, Fei Long retorted. He stepped up to the middle of the balustrade and looked down into the gardens. The light pollution from the city bathed them in a dim grey shimmer, never allowing total darkness to fall.

“That was rather cheesy before, wasn’t it?”, Asami asked after a while, not raising his voice but filling it with mockery.

Fei Long just shrugged. He knew that the Japanese was not the kind of man to ever admit to having been moved by anything.

“It was beautiful”, he answered back, not even turning his gaze from the gardens towards the man. He could see one of the many fountains from here, _this_ one sitting in the middle of a crossing of some garden paths… and even from the distance it stirred some memories, many years old. Now only vague pictures in his mind.

Blood had clung to his hands - the blood of his father dying in his arms. He had opened the large windows to the garden, had walked outside. How long he had wandered through the night, which paths he had taken, he could not recall. But he knew that at one point he reached _that_ fountain, as if he had gone there to wash his hands – yet that hadn’t been necessary anyway. It had been raining so heavily that the blood had long been washed away, and so were his tears – mostly.

Hearing Asami growling behind him made him snap from his thoughts.

“Hey”, the man started, climbing down from the edge of the balustrade but leaning against the wall again. “On Hainan Island I asked you whether you trusted our Russian friend.”

Fei Long turned half around to him, leaving his hands on the stone railing still. It was cold and raw and firm beneath his fingertips.

“Yes, I remember. I told you I trusted him as much as I trust you.”

“Yeah.” Asami took a deep draw from his cigarette. The expression on his face was hard to decipher due to the darkness. He had raised his chin a bit, his shadowed golden eyes glowing down onto the other man, while he exhaled the smoke into the night air.

“So, new question: Do you _like_ him?”, he continued after a while, in which Fei Long just held his gaze.

“I’m not sure that is any of your business”, he replied, not blinking, not moving, aware that he sounded evasive. _Then_ he reconsidered. Right _now,_ he did not _want_ to sound so weak… “More than I like you”, he added therefore and tugged up the corner of his lips into a faint, sly smile.

“Ah”, Asami answered with a loud _‘tzs!’_. “But that’s not saying much. You _don’t_ like me.”

The smile was gone right away, and even though he tried to fight the frown from pulling his eyebrows tight, he did not manage. Abruptly he turned away from the golden eyes and looked down into the garden again.

“You _know_ that isn’t true”, he said, struggling with the knot in his throat and with the air feeling rather chilly suddenly.

 _‘Stupid’_ , he heard that nasty little voice in his head, that sometimes filled his mind with dread and doubt. After everything Asami still didn’t see, still didn’t know, still didn’t care.

 _No_ , Fei Long did not love him anymore. Not like _that_. _Of this_ he was certain. But still he cared, still he thought there was some connection. Something… shared between them. That sentiment however was obviously just one-sided, and realizing this fact _hurt_ terribly.

Cold felt the air of the night around him, cold the stone beneath his fingers, cold the cough of the man, who moved back there, then tossed the cigarette from the balcony. It vanished in the darkness below.

Fei Long waited for him to go back inside, to get into bed next to Akihito so they could share their warmth beneath the thick blanket. But Asami did not leave. He stayed there… still stood there, and when Fei Long turned his head just a tiny bit, the Japanese had raised one hand to draw it over is face.

With a sigh he looked up a moment later, staring _himself_ off into the night sky, now.

“Listen”, he said suddenly, his voice a low murmur, but fell silent again. It took a while, until he spoke, in which Fei Long only heard the man’s slow breathing.

“I am sorry for what I did seven years ago. It was a job, and I am a professional. Never messed up anything, always made my employers happy. Never failed. Not once.” A short pause again. A draw of breath. “But that one was different. I should have told Toh _‘thanks, but no thanks’_ , should have packed my bags and left. But I didn’t because I _had never_ screwed up. And I thought I _never_ _would_. But I lost _that_ case the moment we met. Or at latest when I dragged your drunken ass to my hotel room. You were the first I ever fucking cared about. And I kept that truth from realizing it myself until it was all too late. It was all a fucking mess and it’s _my_ fault. And I am sorry.”

Fei Long found himself clinging to the balustrade. He looked down onto his fingers. They were white from the force with which he dug them into the stone. He had to fight himself to let go and keep his balance at the same moment. Anything else apart from that he however did not know how to do. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak. He was not even sure he could still see. Some strange darkness seemed to have fallen all around.

Only when white dots started to light up in the black, he realized that he must have kept his breath for a long while. He let it go, hearing how loud it sounded into the silence now filling the world.

For how long he had already stood there after Asami had stopped talking he couldn’t tell. But when he finally managed to turn his head a little, the man was still there. He had pushed his hands into the pockets of his black pajamas and still stared off into some unknown distance.

Fei Long wanted to say something… but didn’t know what. His mind was bleak and empty. He didn’t even know _how._

With a growl Asami then moved, cleared his throat and said: “Well, there: I said it. I mean it.”

He turned around and with one step he was at the door, had shoved it open, had walked inside and would have been gone in a moment.

“Ryuichi!”, Fei Long hissed. The tune hardly transported on his breath, but the other man froze, nonetheless. Then he looked back through the still opened door.

“Thank you”, Fei Long said quietly, still fighting with his voice.

Asami nodded barely, but then a half-smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Good night, Fei”, he said, then left.


	8. ...

Speaking _that_ name for once to the face of the other… like talking to a friend… it seemed strange. But did not feel bad.

After Asami had vanished behind the door to his room, Fei Long raised one hand to touch his lips, but there was no trace of those letters forming the Japanese first name there. And there was no sorrow or longing in his heart.

He _did_ love Asami in a way, he realized that moment. But not like _that._ Not romantically anymore. He _had,_ but that had passed. And voicing his name towards the man had felt like he had finally put a seal onto that understanding.

Asami belonged to Akihito. Akihito belonged to Asami. And _he_ belonged…

He walked back inside, down the hall, to that _one_ door he had stood in front of before. He should knock, he thought, but tried to open it nonetheless first. It was unlocked.

Silently he entered and found some light somewhere in the room still on. It was the one on the nightstand. But the man, he had come to see… the man from whom that melody had reached out to him through the night and the long corridors of his childhood home, was not there. Behind himself, he softly closed the door, then heard that voice, that made his heart sing with joy… and _so much more_.

“I had just started to think you’d never come”, Mikhail whispered. He sat in a high old armchair in a corner of the room, dressed in some pajama pants but nothing else. The light made his skin and abs glow, and Fei Long felt his heartbeat accelerate.

“I had to”, he spoke softly after pushing down some pressure that had made his breathing become a bit ragged.

“So?”, Mikhail said, raising his head a bit and one eyebrow. Golden curls fell into his face and his eyes seemed dark and intense.

Slowly Fei Long approached but did not speak until he reached the man. He paused right in front of him.

“I still have that melody in my mind. It keeps playing all the time and I can’t sleep”, he murmured, looking down upon the other man.

Mikhail just smiled up to him, then shrugged.

“Well, I have some Techno on my phone. Or I could play you some Hard Rock to get that tune out of your ears?”, he suggested in a caring voice. His eyes however, which looked up to Fei Long, were full of mischief and longing.

“No”, the Chinese answered. He leaned forward, placing his hands on the backrest of the high armchair, and like that lowered his face to hover just slightly above the other man’s.

“Ok? Some Hip Hop then?”, Mikhail recommended next, a sly little smile showing on his face.

“No”, Fei Long said again. He leaned even further down until his lips touched Mikhail’s forehead. He kissed him. One gentle, small peck. Another on his nose. Then their lips met and Fei Long sighed into the contact, climbing onto the lap of the other. He could feel Mikhail growing manhood pressing against his own, could feel the man’s large hands grabbing him around the waist.

“A… ba… llad… then?”, the Russian suggested in the few moments their kiss broke.

“No”, was again the answer.

“What _then_?”, the other asked. He leaned back, pressing his head against the backrest to look at the Chinese who was so close.

Fei Long hummed, then he gently pushed the hands aside, but did not let go of them. He stood up and pulled Mikhail with him, led him through the room towards the bed and guided him to sit down on it. Once more, he climbed onto the other’s lap, took his face between his hands and kissed him. Again and again, he lay his lips against the other’s but whenever Mikhail tried to catch _his_ or push his tongue through he withdrew.

“Are you teasing me?”, the blonde asked, raising his eyebrows. “Or yourself?”

“I am not sure”, Fei Long answered. Yet now he pushed the sleep robe from his shoulders and let it slip to the floor. He rolled his hips forward, pressing his straining manhood against Mikhail’s and the Russian moaned. That bratty little grin was showing on his face now. His finger darted out to help Fei Long, when he started to open the buttons of his pajama’s shirt. It fell to the ground within a moment and then Mikhail’s lips were on the other’s body, his arms wrapped around the slimmer form, and Fei Long moaned and gasped and let his head fall so that his black hair streamed down his back.

He grabbed the blonde curls on the Russian’s head and pulled him closer, pressing the other man’s mouth harder onto his body, forcing his teeth deeper into his skin. A bite on his nipple made him shudder from pain and lust. Mikhail’s breath was so hot on his chest it seemed to burn him. Once again, he rolled his crotch against the other man’s. There was so little fabric between both their cocks, they rubbed against each other hard and erect.

Mikhail let his mouth wander upwards to Fei Long’s throat, even against the pull of the strong hand’s grabbing at his hair, and he bit the fair skin there, drawing more moans out of his lover.

His hands however now moved downwards. They trailed down the lean, muscled body of the Chinese to the front of his pajama’s pants, opened the belt holding them, then wandered around his waist and pushed the fabric down beneath that small, firm, perfectly rounded ass. With both hands he grabbed Fei Long’s cheeks, pulled them apart and let his finger’s play with the tight opening. It made the other man wince and whimper and push back into the assault, nonetheless.

But suddenly Fei Long grabbed the strong arms handling him, tore them from his body and shoved Mikhail backwards onto the mattress. He yanked the man’s pants down in one quick move, and climbed on top of him, kneeling high above the Russian’s lap, who lay defenseless beneath him, out of breath and aghast from the surprise attack – and the view. Almost as if he was shy Mikhail looked up at him and hardly dared to raise his hands to let his fingers touch and trail up the other man’s thighs.

Slowly Fei Long leaned forward. His hair fell down, the tips brushed over the blonde’s face and neck. He placed one hand on Mikhail’s broad chest to balance himself, and reached between his legs with the other, seizing the already fully erect and excited cock, and brought it into position. Sinking down eternally slowly he allowed Mikhail’s manhood to push inside him, to force him open and to fight all the way up until it was buried to the hilt.

The Russian threw his head back into the thick linen covering his bed. He grabbed Fei Long’s legs – not to support the other, but to support himself to not just lose it then and there. His eyes were closed, his eyebrows pulled tight, his cheeks flushed, and lips parted to gasp for air.

And Fei Long leaned forward, now placing both his hands onto those strong shoulders. Slowly, rolling his hips upwards and downwards he started to ride Mikhail’s cock.

“Ah”, he sighed deeply. “ _This_ was it.”

“What?”, Mikhail hardly managed to breath. He forced open one eye and squinted upwards at Fei Long who studied how the face of the Russian twisted with lust.

“You asked what I needed to get that song out of my mind. _This!_ Your hands on me. Your skin on mine.”

In a mind-wrecking effort Mikhail pushed himself up from the bed, obviously fighting the tremors of heat and lust making his body weak, and sat upright. Almost Fei Long lost his balance and fell over backwards, but the other man caught him once again around the waist and smacked him hard down onto his dick.

“Ah!”, Fei Long exclaimed breathlessly, then sat upright as well. He wrapped his arms around Mikhail’s shoulders.

Like that they held tight to each other, embracing each other. Mikhail looked up to him from inches away, his long, blonde lashed nearly fluttering against Fei Long’s skin. With small kisses the Russian worked his way up the other’s throat, then the line of his jaw, only ever breaking away to whisper some words in between.

“My hands… on you? My… skin… on your’s?”

Fei Long closed his eyes. He leaned into the kisses. His arms wrapped the other even tighter. There was so much heat between their bodies that had nothing to do with the act of sex going on below.

“Your hands on me. Your skin on mine. Your kisses…”, he sighed, when Mikhail’s lips reached his chin and wandered upwards still in the slowest approach possible, each kiss just placed a tiny bit above the other. “You… holding me… loving me… fucking me…”

Hot and forcefully those lips caught his, and Fei Long allowed them, answered the predatory tongue invading his mouth with his own. They clawed at each other, pulling each other closer even though there was no space between them anyway – just as if they could melt into each other, but while they fought to become one, to devour the other’s lips with their own, Fei Long kept only slowly rolling his hips, riding Mikhail gently but intensely.

Nonetheless, soon enough their breathing became ragged, the heat between them became an inferno, searing their skin, their muscles straining to still force them tighter against each other. Each breath was shared with the other, each drop of sweat mixed with the other’s.

Only when they came, did they finally have to let go of each other just the tiniest bit, their bodies taking over for a few seconds, to drown in the lust and save them from catching fire. Mikhail’s fingers dug into his waist, hopefully bruising him for a week, his hips pound upwards in hard, deep thrust, and Fei Long slammed his own body against each of them.

Then Mikhail caught him again, pulling him so hard against himself as he had never done before, as if not only their skin but every fiber of them wanted to become one with the other.

It hurt beautifully. It washed through Fei Long like a cleansing white wave of heat and light.

When he regained consciousness, they had toppled over. Mikhail lay beneath him, his chest heaving with his gasps for breath, Fei Long’s cum spread between their bodies, just like the hot oil of perspiration. A short while however must have had passed, for Mikhail’s cock had slid out of him, trailing semen behind.

Trembling and breathless, Fei Long lifted himself up. He remained kneeling above the other’s hips, but pushed himself up onto his elbows, to look down upon that beautiful, angelic face.

Sweat was gluing some of those blonde curls to Mikhail’s forehead and cheeks. His skin was flushed, his eyes squeezed shut while he still fought for air, his lips parted, red and puffy. He indeed looked like an angel, yet a very indecent one, Fei Long thought.

His black hair fell onto the other, when he leaned down again a little bit, to take an even better look.

One eye Mikhail forced open to squint at him.

“Was that-“, he started, then had to cough to clear his throat, “the reward for your birthday present?”

“No”, Fei Long answered and when he shook his head slightly, his hair tickled Mikhail’s face. The man chuckled, then opened both blue eyes to gaze up to the Chinese.

His strong, warm hands gently brushed up Fei Long’s arms.

“This was you helping me get some sleep”, the answer followed a moment later.

 _That_ way it had all started, Fei Long remembered. He had had bad dreams for weeks. Dreams of finding Asami and Akihito, holding each other, between the debris of the crumbling warehouse. They had been content to die there, if only they would be together in death, and Fei Long had realized that he would never be able to find a love even slightly as strong as that.

Never would it come his way, because he did not deserve it.

Then _one night_ he had turned to Mikhail, to find some comfort, to find some distraction… He could have chosen many others. There were men and women he knew who would never turn him away for lust and longing. Who would get onto their knees and beg him to do with them whatever he craved to. Yet to turn to one of them had never crossed his mind that night. Mikhail had been the one and only he had been thinking about. For whatever reason.

And here they were.

“Are you alright?”, the other asked, his eyebrows now drawn together in worry. Mikhail’s breathing had quieted – and so had his own – Fei Long realized. He was not sure for how long he had stared down onto the other’s face, but it seemed to have been a while.

His answer was a faint smile, then he kissed Mikhail’s forehead once and lifted himself up again, to behold his features, his eyes, his lips again.

“ _Everything_ is alright”, he answered, but his voice was barely a whisper.

Those blue eyes still remained worried and fixated the face only inches away so fiercely, that Mikhail flinched when one of Fei Long’s fingers touched the tip of his nose.

In silence and with a touch as light as a feather’s, Fei Long let his finger trail across the other man’s skin. He found those tiny wrinkles - most from laughing, but maybe some from worrying as well. He let it wander along those blonde eyebrows, drew along his lips, picked golden curls from the skin onto which they clung.

“Fei Long?”, Mikhail asked again, but there was no voice. He only moved his lips.

And the Chinese felt how a smile formed on his face. One that he had never felt there before. It lit up the whole room, and maybe all of Hong Kong… No, probably… it brightened up the whole world.

He leaned down to peck a faint kiss onto Mikhail’s nose, one on each cheek, one on his forehead. One on each eyelid, when the man closed them because of the black strands brushing across them.

Then Fei Long pushed himself up onto his elbows once again. Smiling down onto the other, he caught his gaze and let himself sink into that _blue_ like it was an ocean to dive into. One that was warm and safe and if one would drown in it then it would be heaven.

“I love you”, he whispered.

One tear fell down into Mikhail’s skin and rolled down at once, for the blonde man was shaking now, and the blue became wider and filled with tears, while his face brightened up at the same time. Their combined light would sear out into the world and maybe create a new star in a universe of darkness.

“I love you.”

\- The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!!!


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